Monday, September 05, 2005


My last post was about a time a year ago, which started me on this rocky road to ruin or enlightenment - haven't quite decided which it's to be. One day it's the latter, today it's the former.

Will someone tell me how a bank can have the audacity to charge £39 for a rejected direct debit and tell you it's policy with a straight face. Who are these people, and what planet were they beamed down from in order to invade and conquer earth by stealth. I can hear them now on the planet Zog - "We'll open banks, and rule the masses by creating debt and stress, that'll keep the little bastards under control" So, there they are living life to full and using my £39, and many other peoples no doubt, to pay for the bubbly at the shareholders meetings. I hate being ripped off, and even worse being ripped off legally. I take full responsiblity for the rejected direct debit, but £39 for an electronic blip in the ether that didn't blip harmoniously - christ on a bike!

Now, we come to that other set of aliens. The ones in charge of paperwork at the Department of Health and Social Security. Drowning the earthlings in re-cycled trees, whilst cunningly screwing up the eco system. Why do you need a form, which is 14, yes, fourteen pages long, in order to ascertain whether someone is sick and eligible for the mind blowing sum of £55 per week, when certificates from the doctor are produced. Is this not proof enough? The back of the certificate contains all the relevant information, such as social security number and duly signed by the afflicted. They'll be insisting on vomit samples next and then when you visit to hand in your medical certificate, it'll be "just piss in that jar over there, join the queue to hand it in, then wait for 10 hours in the other queue while it's processed, and I know you're not well, but please try to stay upright". "Oh, and by the way, don't plan on eating or paying for your medicine for a while, it takes 6 weeks to process your payment" (all said in a nauseating, sing song electronic voice). Meanwhile the head honchos on aformentioned planet Zog are laughing their little green socks off.

Oh dear, I think I need to go and lie down in a dark room.



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